


What survives over and over

by Prika



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-11-26 06:52:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prika/pseuds/Prika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Eduardo was the cause of Mark's dimples.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What survives over and over

_Stereo Love_ by Edward Maya & Vika Jigulina

_When you're gonna stop breaking my heart_   
_I don't wanna be another one_   
_Paying for the things I never done_   
_Don't let go,_   
_Don't let go_   
_To my love._   
  
_Can I get to your soul?_   
_Can you get to my thought?_   
_Can we promise we won't let go?_   
_All the things that I need_   
_All the things that you need_   
_You can make it feel so real._   
  
_Cuz you can't deny_   
_You've blown my mind_   
_When I touch your body_   
_I feel I'm loosing control_   
_Cuz you can't deny_   
_You've blown my mind_   
_When I see you baby_   
_I just don't wanna let go._   
  
_I hate to see you cry_   
_Your smile is a beautiful lie_   
_I hate to see you cry_   
_My love is dying inside_   
  
_I can fix all those lies_   
_Oh baby, baby I run, but I'm running to you_   
_You won't see me cry, I'm hiding inside_   
_My heart is in pain but I'm smiling for you_   
  
_Can I get to your soul?_   
_Can you get to my thought?_   
_Can we promise we won't let go?_   
_All the things that I need_   
_All the things that you need_   
_You can make it feel so real._   
  
_Cuz you can't deny_   
_You've blown my mind_   
_When I touch your body_   
_I feel I'm loosing control_   
_Cuz you can't deny_   
_You've blown my mind_   
_When I see you baby_   
_I just don't wanna let go._   
  
_When you're gonna stop breaking my heart_   
_Don't let go,_   
_Don't let go_   
_To my love._   
  
_I hate to see you cry, your smile is a beautiful lie_   
  
_I hate to see you cry, my love is dying inside_   
  
_I can fix all those lies_   
_Oh baby, baby I run, but I'm running to you_   
_You won't see me cry, I'm hiding inside_   
_My heart is in pain but I'm smiling for you_   
_Oh baby I've tried to make the things right,_   
_I need you more than air when I'm not with you,_   
_Please don't ask me why, just kiss me this time_   
_My only dream is about you and I_

 

I

 

Eduardo wasn’t in the slightest mood to attend the party. It’s not that he doesn’t like parties; he does, a lot. But when it’s the first AEPi party of your freshman year at college and you don’t know _anyone_ at all, it’s different from going with friends.

 

Here are the reasons he goes, nonetheless.

 

His mother’s voice in Eduardo’s mind, telling him to _socialize._ Yeah, the same thing she told him during school, never mind that Eduardo already had good friends. He wasn’t collecting them, really. But here it was; her voice acting as a conscience. Whatever. Eduardo wonders if in her time, people actually got to know each other during parties, because nowadays, with the stupidly loud music and amount of drinking, it was a rare occurrence.

 

His father, which had called him for a _talk_ when Eduardo was admitted to Harvard. He already knew it probably meant his father speaking and he listening. That’s how Eduardo got a two hour lecture of how Harvard was full of _the right people_ and how he should find them and hang out only with them. The irony is that his father would never have considered Mark as one of the right people.

 

There’s also this guy, Dustin, who Eduardo met in the first week. They went to one class together and had talked a couple of times. Dustin was talkative and friendly, and had asked Eduardo to go, even if they didn’t know each other so well.

 

Plus, Eduardo likes dancing. That’s what he’ll be doing, if everything else fails.

 

So, there he is, in a circle with a couple of guys of his class, also Econ freshman, beer in hands, trying really hard to listen to them over the chaos that becomes a closed place with crowds of people screaming and loud music playing.

 

They seem like nice people and soon, Eduardo’s having fun and stops bothering with the noise. There comes a moment of silence which he takes to look around; he had really lost track of time.

 

The place isn’t large. Without moving, Eduardo can track the whole room. He spots a kid against the wall, looking bored to death. He called Eduardo’s attention because of his _fuck you_ posture, but also because of his clothes. Eduardo knows he’s a little overdressed, and this isn’t his father’s advice; Eduardo likes being well dressed. But the kid’s wearing fucking shorts, sandals and an oversized hoodie. He’s all by himself, sipping his beer, and Eduardo feels like talking to him.

 

That’s when that guy that had called him, Dustin, with a blond guy at his side, approaches the kid. Eduardo figures he should talk to Dustin and excuses himself.

 

“Eduardo! Glad you came!”, Dustin greets him, then turns to the other two.

 

“Guys, this is Eduardo, the guy I’ve mentioned from my class. These are Chris and Mark.”

 

The blond one, Chris, smiles warmly and shakes his hand. Mark also does it, without loosing his boredom face.

What follows is the typical freshman talk: majors, classes, feared teachers. Once they’re more familiar with each other, they switch to personal things like tastes and hobbies. Eduardo tells them about his weather fixation. Chris enjoys reading, Dustin likes surfing and Mark’s apparently a code genius. Eduardo finds out that Mark refused to sell Microsoft an app he developed. He still has kind of a sulking posture and suddenly, Dustin elbows him.

 

“Told you it’d be good to come. See, you’ve made another friend.”

 

Mark rolls his eyes and Eduardo chuckles,

 

“What’s up?”

 

“If Mark had his way, he wouldn’t be here now; he’d probably have coded himself into his laptop. Hey, Mark! When you create A.I, don’t make them as smart and evil as you, ok? They’ll want to take over the planet.”

 

“Shut up, Dustin.”

 

Eduardo risks a side glance at Chris, who meets his eyes and shrugs,

 

“I swear, it’s been like this from the first day.”

 

Eduardo’s finding all this really funny, especially because now they’re engaged in a discussion about A.I. the movie and Dustin’s eyes get watery when he talks about the boy who’d suffer forever and Mark’s explaining how the whole idea is ridiculous, because you can’t code feelings into a computer. At least something’s caught his interest.

 

Dustin glares at him.

 

“Well, I’m a programmer and I’ll find a way to code a feeling into you, Mark. The feeling of _having fun._ Ever heard of?”

 

Mark shrugs and is about to argue when Eduardo speaks, holding his laugh,

 

“Well, fun is a relative thing.”

 

“Exactly”, Mark agrees wholeheartedly. Eduardo looks at him.

 

“What’s your idea of fun, Mark?”

 

Mark tilts his head a little, considering the question, and Eduardo’s somehow glad that he’s distracted instead of pouting, even if a part of him had found it adorable, go figure.

 

“Coding!”, Dustin says loudly, and Mark ignores him.

 

“I like music. Movies. Languages. Mitology.”

 

Eduardo’s kind of startled; these are not the things he was expecting to hear from a coder. Living and learning. When he finds Mark can speak fucking Latin, he can’t help chuckling, eyes wide,

 

“Shit! Why Latin?”

 

Mark shrugs,

 

“Why the shock? Aside from sounding good, Latin’s a mother language, I don’t think it should ever be lost. Plus, it’s complex, has lots of conjugations, it’s a great challenge. And it originated the language from whichever South America country you come from.”

 

“How do you know?”, Eduardo asks, hiding the strange excitement he felt from knowing Mark had paid such close attention to him.

 

Mark smirks,

 

“Well, aside from the color of your skin, hair and eyes, the way you act, close, as if you already knew us. And when you shook our hands, you looked like you were restraining yourself not to hug us.”

 

Chris looks horrified,

 

“Mark!”

 

“No, it’s ok, Chris. Actually, I had to keep myself from kissing your cheeks, guys, because that’s how we do it in Brazil.”

 

They all laugh, even Mark, and Eduardo…He doesn’t get it, why it feels so amazing to know it’s because of him. Maybe because even if he’s just met Mark, Eduardo can already tell he’s difficult. He takes the moment to examine Mark’s face, and… is it _dimples?_ It is. And it’s fucking cute.

 

II

 

Eduardo was right in his first judgment. Mark smiling is not a daily thing. When it happens, he’s either drunk or watching something funny, and more rarely, when they’re talking and Mark’s too absentminded, he lets a small smile out. 

 

It all points to one explanation, in Eduardo’s opinion: Mark doesn’t relax. His super fast mind probably doesn’t let him.

 

Eduardo’s taken it as a personal challenge to make Mark have more fun. Dustin sort of does it, too, though he only manages to annoy Mark, trying to convince him to do the things that he considers fun. Eduardo knows better. He doesn’t try to drag Mark to parties and crowded places. Eduardo watches movies with him, takes him out for drinks when Mark’s had too much of computers and generally hangs out with him through campus to do whatever. Mostly, he sits by Mark’s bed, minding his own stuff while Mark works on his code, in companionable silence, exchanging a few words now and then. Basically, Eduardo’s there, and he’s happy with that. Eduardo can’t help sometimes watching Mark though, so lost to this world, wondering if he’ll ever get to him.

 

So there’s this week that precedes their exams, during which Eduardo’s nerves are a wreck of stress and anxiety and exhaustion, because he can’t have good grades; he need excellent, awesome grades. He doesn’t even know where his father’s demands end and Eduardo’s own needs start. But he’s not had a regular grade since high school and is not about to start now.

 

He still studies in Mark’s room. It’s silent. Plus, if he didn’t do it, Eduardo knows he’d probably go a week locked in his dorm without seeing Mark, and he doesn’t want that.

 

He’s made a mess of piled books and spread notes over Mark’s bed, which doesn’t matter because Mark hardly leaves his desk anyway. That’s where he’s now; has been since before noon, when Eduardo came in, and from the bags under his eyes, he’s probably been there since yesterday. Eduardo doesn’t even bother asking if Mark skipped class or if he plans on at least taking a quick look at his notes before the exams.

 

In ten minutes, he’s taken by the reading, when he’s suddenly poked on the shoulder. Startled, he lifts his eyes to find Mark, staring down at him with petulance.

 

“What, Mark?”

 

Mark shrugs. Eduardo lifts his eyebrows in exasperation.

 

“What’s up?”, Mark asks casually. Eduardo rolls his eyes.

 

“I’m studying.”, he mumbles, already back to the book. Mark pokes his arm this time.

 

“Mark, some of us need to study, you know.”

 

“But that’s all you’ve been doing.”

 

“I always take at least two weeks to prepare myself.”

 

Mark mutters something under his breath that sounds like useless, but shrugs again and sits by Eduardo’s side. Eduardo suppresses a smile, and instead, says in annoyance,

 

“Don’t you have anything to code?”

 

“I can’t believe you’re asking me to code, Wardo. I’ve been coding since yesterday night, nonstop. If I die from exhaustion, it’s your fault.”

 

“Well, if I asked you to do something healthy, like sleeping or eating, would you?”

 

Mark pretends he’s considering it, but it’s so fake Eduardo pushes him and Mark _smiles._ There are those dimples and Eduardo can’t take his eyes away.

 

“Well, if you wanted to grab some lunch, I’d go.”

 

“You manipulative bitch. You know I’ll go just because _you_ need to eat and I won’t let you starve.”

 

“Good to know my charms still work. Now come.”

 

Eduardo snorts, but it’s so fond it’s pathetic. While they walk towards the restaurant, he turns to Mark,

 

“You’ll swallow down everything in your plate to the last bean. Yeah, I said bean. You made me drop my studies, you’d better make it worth it and have a large, healthy meal.”

 

Mark wrinkles his nose,

 

“Beans are disgusting, Wardo. I’ve managed to survive pretty well without them.”

 

“Didn’t your mother make you eat beans?”

 

“She tried. I have to recognize she did.”

 

“I can only imagine what a pain in the ass you were to eat.”

 

Mark smirks,

 

“Yep, you can only imagine.”

 

“Well, I’m in charge now. Things are going to change.”, Eduardo announces,  reaching out to ruffle Mark’s curls, an habit that’s become usual. The smile that follows is smaller this time, but there are still dimples. Two in a single day; that’s a victory. Eduardo’s glad he left his books.

 

 

III

 

Eduardo’s keeping a close eye on Mark.

 

He knows it’ll do nothing to reduce all the college gossiping about how he follows Mark around like a pet. And Eduardo couldn’t care less.

 

There’s no way Mark’s absolutely fine. It’s been a few weeks since Erica broke up with him, and Mark has mentioned nothing, hasn’t done absolutely _anything_ to indicate he’s suffering.

 

Of course there’s something wrong. He may be fooling everyone else, but not Eduardo.

 

Mark won’t share what’s going inside him. He won’t get things out of his chest. He’ll public that Erica Albright is a bitch for anyone to see. He’ll have an outbreak of what was probably a mix of anger, pain and broken ego, and create a website to rate woman based on their hotness, that caused Harvard’s internet to crash, by the way. But next day, the subject is locked. It’s ridiculous, really.

 

But Eduardo’s just waiting for the FaceSmash’s adrenaline to fade, because it’s got to be blocking the pain. Mark’s got to have a limit. No one can live like this; Eduardo can’t even conceive the idea of keeping things for himself. So he’s keeping a close eye. If it was anyone else, Eduardo would already have dragged them for a drink and listened to their laments or something alike. Actually, anyone else would have _asked_ to do it. But this is Mark; Eduardo knows this is not the way to deal with him. Not that he didn’t try; he did, a couple of times, with no success. He won’t pressure Mark, though; won’t force him to speak. Eduardo’s just there. Spending more time in the dorm, because Mark’s become more recluse. Not going out very often. Renting movies to watch on weekends.

 

He must be mistaken in his assumptions, because weeks go by and nothing changes.

 

Then one day, at lunchtime, Mark doesn’t show up like he had promised to. Eduardo texts him and gets no answer. He knocks at Mark’s door, but the dorm’s probably empty. Eduardo figures Mark’s probably lost track of time working at some project at the CS lab and goes back to his classes.

 

At night, after returning to his own dorm and showering, Eduardo still has no news of Mark’s whereabouts and starts to worry, because even when they don’t meet, they still talk to each other every day.

 

He’s just about to call Mark when his phone rings. It’s Chris, and he’s worried, asking Eduardo to come over to their dorm.

 

Eduardo’s nervous when he gets there and the door is already open. Chris and Dustin are waiting for him, arms crossed and anxious looks on their faces.

 

“Please talk to Mark. He came here after noon, locked himself with a package of beer, skipped all afternoon classes and when we went in there, he told us he’s fine.”

 

Eduardo blinks in confusion.

 

“He won’t say what’s wrong?”

 

Chris sends him a look of disbelief.

 

“Are you surprised? I’d be if he actually did tell us. Maybe he’ll tell you. We’ve tried so many times.”

 

Eduardo doesn’t know if he’ll make a difference. Sometimes, Mark feels unreachable even to him. He sucks a large amount of air and goes, anyway.

 

At the first knock at Mark’s door, he gets:

 

“I’m alive. Get off.”

 

Mark’s obviously drunk.

 

Eduardo frowns,

 

“Chris and Dustin saw that you’re alive. I need to see with my own eyes now.”

 

There’s the sound of someone unlocking the door and stepping away. Eduardo gets in.

 

Mark’s not sitting at his desk, no open laptop in front of him. He’s sitting crossed legged on the bed. There are some empty beer cans through the room. His fingers are restless on his lap, as if they don’t know what to do without a keyboard.

 

He’s staring blankly at the wall.

 

Eduardo approaches him slowly, as he would with a scared, wild animal. He touches Mark’s shoulder.

 

“Hey, man. You ok?”

 

Mark doesn’t look up. It takes him a good while to respond with a slow nod. Eduardo swallows a lump in his throat.

 

“You sure?”

 

This time, Mark doesn’t answer. Instead, he pushes himself from the bed, but as soon as he’s standing, he loses balance. Eduardo hurries to steady him, arms on his waist, but Mark disentangles himself and stumbles towards the desk. He sits, moves the mouse and puts his hands over the keyboard. He doesn’t move them.

 

“Mark? You’re freaking me out.”, Eduardo calls, trying to keep from his tone _how much_ he’s actually freaked out.

 

Then, Mark’s reaching for another beer can under his desk. Before he can even open it, Eduardo’s taken it away.

 

“You’ve had enough. You’ll get sick, Mark. This is not the way to deal with it.”

 

“With what?”, Mark asks, scowling and finally looking at him.

 

“You tell me.”

 

Eduardo expects Mark to roll his eyes, but he actually tightens his lips, frowning, clearly troubled. Then, he seems to realize what he’s doing and stands on his feet.

 

“Give me back”, he demands.

 

“Mark.”, Eduardo warns. Then, Mark’s advancing, lifting his arm, but Eduardo takes it out of his reach. Mark tries, grabbing Eduardo’s arm to keep it still, and Eduardo frees himself easily, giving Mark a look that clearly means _give up, I’m taller and you’re drunk._

Mark, however, is stubborn as hell, and makes another advance, sanding on his tip toes and stretching his arm. Eduardo dodges him, and suddenly, Mark trips over his own feet and falls.

 

“Shit, sorry!”

 

Eduardo crouches down, helping him to his feet, asking if he’s hurt, and Mark’s scowling really hard but he looks dizzy, and that’s when Eduardo notices a small, knead piece of paper on the floor, which probably fell from Mark’s pocket. He kneels to get it,

 

“What is it?”

 

Mark shrugs. He’s staring at the floor. Eduardo looks at him for a while but Mark doesn’t move. He opens the small note.

 

_U R a jerk_

His eyes widen as Eduardo stares at the paper for a moment that feels like time has stopped. He swallows thickly.

 

Eduardo doesn’t need to ask who did it and why they did it. Unsurprisingly, since the advent of FaceSmash, Mark had been the target of attacks and reprimands that went from mere disapproving to utterly offensive. Once, a furious brother had cornered Mark outside the campus and Eduardo was glad Mark informed him of this, because since then, he avoided letting Mark wandering around by himself. You never knew; there are insane people out there.

 

Not that Eduardo approves what Mark did.

 

He finally lifts his eyes to Mark, who’s sat back on the bed, probably to avoid being dizzy again.

 

Eduardo’s kind of lost. Mark has to know there would be consequences to his act, aside from six months of probation. He sighs and walks over to the bed, sitting by Mark’s side. He’s thinking of something to say, and is startled when Mark’s the one to talk.

 

“She said the same thing to me.”

 

_Oh._

Eduardo knows he’s going to be careful here. But Mark’s mentioning Erica for the first time, and looks like he actually wants to _listen,_ as well.

 

“Mark… Why did you say those things about her?”, he asks, no accusation in his tone, even if it’s firm. If they’re finally addressing the subject, Eduardo’ll be honest. And to assume Mark doesn’t know he screwed up would be an offense to his intelligence.

 

For a solid moment, Mark doesn’t say anything. His face would look blank, if Eduardo wasn’t close enough to notice a small detail: his trembling lips.

 

“I said other things too, aside from the blog. The night she left. I… I thought she was slipping away… ”

 

Eduardo notices with horror that Mark’s eyes became red and wet, and his chest suddenly fills constricted. He catches himself before doing something like pulling Mark close, because for Mark to show this must already be hard, and to push things now would only drive him away.

 

He notices Mark’s breathing hard and gripping the sheets with the effort of not letting go. Very slowly, Eduardo lifts a soothing hand to his shoulder.

 

“Mark… Talk to her. You should do that.”

 

He feels Mark’s shoulder tensing at that, but Mark’s quiet. _What to make of this?_ Doesn’t Mark wish to apologize? Is he too proud to do that? Doesn’t he have the guts to do it? Or does he think it’d be useless? Eduardo bites down the urge to ask him. Then, something else occurs to him and he gently shakes Mark’s shoulder.

 

“You know how not to be a jerk, all right?”

 

Mark turns to him, eyes wide and confused. Eduardo resists the urge to smile, as he wants to make a point.

 

“I know you do, I’m your friend. Though it was kind of jerkish to leave me worrying without news today. But you see the point. You can be nice when you want to, put it to good use, for heaven’s sake.”

 

Mark’s still blinking at him, his face unreadable.

 

“Plus you’ll just have to live with my following act, because I’m a Brazilian and you have to accept cultural differences.”

 

Eduardo pulls Mark to him.

 

There’s a small, shocked noise escaping Mark’s mouth, but he doesn’t resist. At first he’s all rigid in Eduardo’s arms, but Eduardo doesn’t let himself be discouraged. His arms are not too tight around Mark, but also not loose, just a firm, comforting grip. It doesn’t last for long, but enough for Eduardo to smell the shampoo on Mark’s curls and to feel Mark relaxing into his arms, and the feeling is absolutely _amazing_.

 

When they part, Mark gives him his best petulant face.

 

“Is that enough of Brazilian clinginess?”, he asks in the usual flat tone.

 

Eduardo pokes him,

 

“Be grateful, you _needed it._ ”

 

Mark rolls his eyes, and before he turns his head, Eduardo sees his lips curving up.

 

He’s never felt so victorious in his life.

 

Later, when he convinces Mark to go out for dinner even knowing he’s not hungry and Mark swallows a whole tuna sandwich and a good amount of chips without arguing, Eduardo knows it’s his way of thanking.

 

 

IV

 

His life has become a major mess.

 

It’s been all about failed expectations.

 

His father expects him to exceed everyone else at Harvard, while still handling the Facebook business as a professional. Never mind his father _had never believed_ Facebook would be successful before it earned the angel investment.

 

Mark expects him to drop _everything else_ to focus on Facebook, which wouldn’t be a small thing, as Eduardo has built a solid academic life in his few years of college. Also, Mark expects him to continue investing, to forget about advertisement and just ignore the risks, when Eduardo’s the _damn_ CFO, he’s the one with experience in finances.

 

Eduardo tries to conciliate things. He accepts the internship his father arranged in NY, but looks for announcers during his free time. But he’s worried that he’s leaving everything for Mark to handle and quits the internship, intending to spend summer break in California.

 

He’s scolded by his father and Mark tells him he’ll be left behind.

 

He’s used to being a disappointment to his father. Almost numbed against the feeling. Almost.

 

Disappointing Mark’s another story. It’s like this life he has built for himself (away from home, from his father), the world he finally belonged to, is rejecting him. 

 

He freezes the account, believing he had professional reasons to do so. He won’t keep paying for a house where Sean takes underage girls and drugs. He won’t keep paying if Mark and Sean don’t show him any respect.

 

He’s so angry when he does it, it’s actually _sad._ He’s falling apart.

 

No one asked Eduardo what are _his_ expectations.

 

He wants to do this with Mark, wants to make it work, and yes, part of him wants to impress his father, but he also believes in what they’re doing, think it’s brilliant, Mark’s brilliant and Eduardo’s flattered to be part of this. But he also wants his father to _see._ He has to see this is not just any business; it’s the business his own _fucking son_ has started with a friend, and he should believe it because his son did, because his son saw worth in it.

 

And Mark… Mark could try a little harder to see Eduardo’s side. He could quit being so fucking selfish, so fucking blind. Eduardo wants, _needs_ him to see that…

 

_Shit, things in his head are so mixed up, so fucked up._

 

And when Mark calls him to announce they got an investment, to say Eduardo’s forgiven, that he’s _needed_ , Eduardo hopes for the best and goes, because that’s his nature, he’s hopeful.

 

At Facebook’s new headquarters, they’re leaning over the desk at the entrance. Eduardo’s sipping his beer to celebrate and Mark… Mark’s looking up at him. Really looking, as if he’s seeing Eduardo for the first time.

 

His icy blue eyes are softer than ever.

 

He’s smiling.

 

Without knowing why, it makes Eduardo sad. There’s something actually _blue_ about the way those blue eyes are fixed on him, even about the way Mark’s smiling.

 

But he’s probably projecting. It’s probably just the pain that’s been accompanying Eduardo like a shadow for some time now, every single time he lays his eyes on Mark.

 

V

 

It took them a few years to get over the poor mentality that makes people see the world in two colors, no shades: black or white. Right or wrong.

 

Mark came to him, but it doesn’t matter. Eduardo’d have gone to him, eventually. Actually, Mark felt comfortable coming to him because Eduardo had made him feel so. They had been stumbling upon each other at events and congresses, not always a coincidence. Slowly, the way they greeted each other had become softer, and the looks they sent each other more hopeful.

 

Soon, they found that despite of their willingness, they were far from being over everything.

 

The difference was time. Time diluted the hard feelings of hurt and anger and intolerance. Time changed their views, at least partially. Time taught them when there were arguments, if one lost patience, the other would have to hold it for a while.

 

If they ever wanted to function as them.

 

As it turned out, both wanted to be a _them._ They hesitated at first, afraid to rush things even after six months, until they realized that the process of relearning each other would take forever, that every relationship needs neverending working.

 

That’s why when Eduardo steps into Mark’s room in a Friday night after weeks without seeing each other and Mark mutters _have work to do,_ not even turning his goddamn head to acknowledge him, Eduardo sighs deeply. He breathes in and out.

 

The thing is, Eduardo was supposed to come last weekend, but got kept by work. At the phone, with Mark’s usual flat tone, it was _impossible_ to know what was going on in that mind of his.

 

On the other hand, Eduardo’s the one to always come over. He knows Mark’s job requires him in the offices more than Eduardo’s does. He knows that sometimes, when he’s here, Mark won’t give him so much attention, because there’s an emergence that he won’t trust anyone else with.

 

He could throw all this in Mark’s face and they’d fight without even saying _hi_ and Eduardo’d end up in a hotel or, who knows, flying back to Singapore.

 

It’s not that Eduardo doesn’t intend on discussing all these things. He’s learned to speak his mind.

 

But it doesn’t have to be during the heat of a moment where Mark’s clearly upset. So, Eduardo turns back and goes to find another room.

 

Sitting by a desk, he opens his laptop while holding his phone against his shoulder. After talking to his mother, Eduardo checks for emails while listening to music, which sooths him, clearing his mood, until he’s entranced by the songs.

 

It’s not even thirty minutes later when Eduardo lifts his eyes, and Mark’s standing by the door with arms crossed. The room is in shadows, with closed curtains, and he can’t distinguish any expression in Mark’s face. Thinking of Mark watching him without him noticing, Eduardo blushes, lowering the sound and spinning the chair.

 

“Hey. Done with work?”

 

Mark shrugs.

 

“No. Are you… Are you working?”

 

Eduardo’s turn to shrug.

 

“No, just listening to some music.”

 

Seeming to relax, Mark lowers his hands, shoving them into his pockets, walks over to Eduardo, and casually adds,

 

“I put Dustin in charge.”

 

Eduardo keeps looking up, unable to avert from that blue gaze fixed so intently at him. Then, Mark lowers himself onto Eduardo’s lap. And it’s not like it isn’t a pleasant surprise, but it’s still a surprise, because when it comes to touching, it usually takes some…coaxing for Mark to show himself eager; Mark’s somewhat timid when it comes to that and is slowly starting to feel comfortable to initiate things.

 

So Eduardo can’t blame himself for his wide eyes. Mark smirks, taking the moment to press his lips against Eduardo’s. Mark kisses thoroughly, full of intent, no teasing, in his unique way, which is enough to blow Eduardo’s mind. Mark clearly puts all of himself into the kiss, wanting to please Eduardo, always searching for new tricks, eyes closed and blissful face (Eduardo’s taken a look sometimes), which is hot as well as adorable. His arms have encircled Eduardo’s neck, and Eduardo’s pulled Mark closer by the waist, and as soon as their bodies are pressed, a muffled moan escapes Mark’s lips, which goes straight to Eduardo’s groin, since Mark’s usually quiet, it’s hard to make him noisy. Eduardo slips his hands underneath Mark’s hoodie, stroking his sides and belly, and Mark arches his back into the touch. His mouth doesn’t stop his assault to Eduardo, though, and starts kissing the corner of his lips, licking and nuzzling at his jaw and behind his ear. Mark’s warm tongue against his face is such a ridiculous turn on Eduardo forgets to breathe, even as his hands slide through Mark’s ribs and up to his chest, making him shiver and squirm under Eduardo’s teasing caress. _Wardo,_ he calls, and it sounds like a curse but also like a _whine,_ and suddenly Eduardo’s taken by pure adrenaline impulse; he stands up with Mark in his arms and Mark’s legs come instantly around him.

 

Mark’s heavier than he looks but it’s worth it just to see how _fucking turned on_ it makes him, all flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes.

 

Eduardo walks them to the bed and lowers Mark, who lies back with inviting parted lips. Eduardo leans down to kiss them until he has Mark melting. Mark’s hands start unbuttoning Eduardo’s shirt, then Eduardo strips him of hoodie and shirt. Then they’re clinging to each other again, hips pressing, and Mark’s hands are all over his back, those expert fingers tracing Eduardo’s body, and Eduardo’s hand stroking Mark’s waist, and Mark squirms again, but this time, Eduardo notices better, notices the way those lips had curved slightly. He stops and Mark groans.

 

“Mark, are you… Are you ticklish?”

 

Mark frowns and tries pulling Eduardo down. Eduardo dodges him.

 

“Of course I’m not.”

 

Eduardo raises an eyebrow and tickles Mark’s rib. Mark brusquely squirms.

 

“You totally are.”, he says, amused.

 

“Yeah, so what? Unless this is some awkward fetish of yours, I don’t see what’s the point.”, Mark dryly comments.

 

It’s so typical of Mark to still be stupidly coherent even when he was moaning and rubbing against Eduardo a minute ago. It’s infuriating and only serves to make Eduardo push the subject further.

 

He sits back on his heels between Mark’s legs.

 

“Well, I’ve not seen a single dimple since I got here.”

 

“You want me to smile in the middle of sex? Here you go then.”, he says, smiling with tight lips and toothless, in that same awkward way Sheldon Cooper from Big Bang Theory does.

 

“Jesus, don’t do that again.”

 

“Told you.”

 

“Guess I’ll have to go get some dimples myself.”

 

“I always knew there was something weird about you and my dimples. Keep your pervert hands away from them.”

 

But Eduardo’s already grinning like a maniac as he leans over Mark, reaching for his arms and pinning them under his legs, despite Mark’s struggles. When he finds he’s helpless, Mark looks up at Eduardo and he’s panting and _terrified._

Eduardo presses his fingers to Mark’s ribs, sliding, a light touch, and Mark’s body jerks as he holds something that threatens to come out of his throat.

 

Then, very softly, with the tips of his five fingers, Eduardo tickles his ribs and Mark curls himself, shouts at him to stop, but Eduardo doesn’t, keeps tickling but never too hard, just enough that Mark can’t keep quiet, and suddenly, _finally,_ his lips curve up and he’s shaking with laughs and squirming from one side to the other and Eduardo moves to his neck, getting the same reaction, with Mark lowering his chin, trying to trap Eduardo’s fingers. Eduardo settles a rhythm so that Mark doesn’t sound desperate, only slightly out of breath.

 

It still takes some time for Mark to calm down once Eduardo stops. He leans in, kissing the dimples before they’re gone.

 

As soon as he’s recovered, Mark shoves his bony heel into Eduardo’s rib.

 

“Shit, Mark! I took it easy, didn’t I? It’s not like I tortured you!”

 

Mark kicks him again and again, and Eduardo has to hold him down and kiss him to stop him, which gets Mark’s eyes on fire, and pretty soon they’re back to where they’d stopped.

 

Next day morning, Eduardo wakes up to the smell of coffee and Mark’s voice downstairs, scolding someone over some Facebook trouble, probably Dustin.

 

He turns on his side lazily, arm reaching for Mark’s empty spot on the bed, still warm, and his hand comes against something. Leaning on his elbow, Eduardo brings it to him.

 

It’s an old picture of them at Harvard. Eduardo didn’t even know it existed. They are gathered in the dorm; Mark’s looking up at Eduardo, smiling at him, but Eduardo’s talking to Chris, seeming pretty wrapped around whatever they were talking about. Dustin’s probably the one who took the picture; it’s so typical of him.

 

Eduardo flips the picture around. There’s Mark’s tilted writing;

 

_Take it so you don’t have to interrupt sex next time because of this._

_MZ_

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Why do all my works have to end with fluff?


End file.
